Asjiaaro - Axe and Fire 15
by Gordoth
Summary: His name... His name was Asjiaaro. His eyes were as black as night, yet they were warm, and caring. Yet almost no one had seen him in a while. No one knew he was alive. Not even Yasuo. Yet... Yet he rose, and became a new legends. Axe and Fire 1.5 Yasuo and Yasuo's Brother (Asjiaaro


**A/N: Welcome! I am welcoming you to AXE AND FIRE 1.5! HOORAY! I hope you like this story IN BETWEEN, which has a lot of references to the story of Axe and Fire. Leave a review. Because I want it. :3**

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They all thought that he was dead. Those who sent the assassin, those who were down stairs, the Elders, everyone. Even his brother.

And they were right, to some extend. The fact that he was backstabbed meant that he was dead, because not a lot of people could survive a dagger to the throat or just in the back. It was a feat, not yet achieved by humans. It was, however, achievable. He looked at his chest and groaned. He had awaken in some dark place, similar to a cave, but the fact that there were a lot of coffins next to his body, meant that this was probably a Crypt. No sound was registered by his ears, and no sound was made by him, with the tiny exception of breathing.

He slowly rose to a sitting position and looked around himself. A crypt, eh? He thought, and started wondering why was he in a Crypt, but not in a coffin. That was interesting, at least, for him and his big head. He concluded that he was indeed in a Crypt. Not a great discovery, but he was proud with himself. And now, where is my sword? That became the most important thing in the world, in just a second, he was already tapping around himself, searching for the beautiful blade, which he usually sheathed in a black sheath, so it didn't cut his clothes apart. He almost groaned in frustration when he didn't find it.

He stood up and walked a few steps away from the cold floor on which he was probably sleeping moments ago, and felt as if he was totally lost. Totally lost. No idea where he was, how was he going to get out, or how did he get there. But one thing he knew. And that was the pain he was feeling at the back of his head. His hand, gloved as almost always, shot up to the point where pain was coming from, and he touched and... Felt nothing, obviously, since you cannot make inspections with gloves on your hands. So he took the glove off and tapped the back of his head. And was almost pleasantly surprised to find out that a lot of dry blood was nestled there.

He just smiled, put his gloves back on, and was about to continue with his task, which was discovering his sword, when he realised. There was blood on the back of his head, and it hurt. He almost screamed, but was happily awarded by the fact he tried to contain the scream, and only winced.

"Wha-a-at?" He said and turned around, swift feet leading him towards the cold pedestal on which he was sleeping a while ago. And there it was, the red spot, where his head had probably been. His eyes widened, and he realised he had been sleeping there, or, with the discovery of the blood, had been unconscious, for a while.

And he was, strangely enough, not hungry. So... Someone had tried to take his life... And he didn't remember. Well, now that he thought of it, he was a swordsman, but he'd NEVER taken a life, nor was HIS life in danger. And now... It felt quite thrilling. Like sweet sake washing up in his throat, like amazing cooked boars after a long spar... It felt better. Even better then the sensation of sex. Well, maybe not so good, but still AMAZINGLY good.

But I'm forgetting about my task... He stopped himself from continuing on with his philosophical discoveries. He had to find a way out, and, before doing so, he needed his sword. It provided protection, and it provided with an imposing presence. He liked his imposing presence. After a while of rummaging through the darkness, he realised that it was evident that his sword was probably somewhere outside, lost in the forests. He groaned and spat on the stony ground. That somehow sucked.

He groaned and started searching for a way out.

"Man, why do we have to throw corpses down here... It's dark, it's pretty mossy and damned old. Also, it's Ionian! Fucking Ionian! Those guys can only build goddamn temples and lanterns..."

"Nanak, stop complaining! We could've been in the slot for burners. No one wants to be a burner, so shut up." Darien called out, making sure that the stupid soldier wouldn't keep complaining. He went silent and kept helping him with emptying the cart on the pedestals and coffins.

"tleast it ain't a sin to piss around here..." Said Nanak and dropped the legs that belonged to the corpse of some unlucky soldier and headed to a chamber in the crypt. Darien groaned and pslmed his face in frustration. Why was he working with that guy. He always complained, always had something to talk about which made Darien get pissed off.

After a while, Darien had finished up the cart and was waiting for Nanak, who was taking longer than he was supposed to. Darien had called out a few times, but didn't dare to go. What if some kind of restless ghosts or something like this was coming after him, for desecrating their tomb. Goddamn Nanak and his ideas and worth and fuck him. Darien called once more, but was surprised to hear muffled grunts. That launched the man's danger lights on and he unsheated his sword.

Slowly, Darien walked towards the hallway which Nanak find st had went to, and was now expecting ing something to fall over him. Goddamn ghosts, goddamn Ionians and all this bullshit! One more grunt or something of the like and Darien was leaving the stupid jerk for dead. And for him, that was good. Darien hated the stupid man. Let him die.

As Darian was making his way out, he had the feeling someone was tracing him, following him. He tried to ignore it. It won't attack me if I don't attack it first, right? Wondered Darien, speeding his pace up. As he reached the entrance of the Crypt, he cursed. The keys were on Nanak. He couldn't open the door.

"Are you, by chance, looking for this set of keys?" Asked someone. Darien almost jumped off the staircase, but managed to stay put. He turned, eyes wide, body sweating, to see an Ionian man, a bit younger than him, holding the keyring which was once Nanak's possession. The man in front of him didn't look scary at all. His hair was raven black, block and flowing down his back. He had a few brands coming out here and there, but other then that his hair looked reasonable. His beard looked as if it was shaved about a week ago, and his face held a friendly expression. His eyes helped, because they radiated warmth and forgiveness. Darien had never before seen a man like this.

His clothes... They were strange. He had a red robe, which seemed as if it was meant for people twice his size, with two symbols on it. They were, of course, in Ionian and Darien couldn't read or understand what they meant, so he continued to inspect his guest. He had a short rope around his chest, descending from the upper half of his body to the lower. It was adorned with white and green spheres, and he wasn't wearing anything underneath it. There were some tattoos on his chest, and they went up his right arm. He wore anciant samurai armor, at least on his legs. Steel plates strapped around the left, right and rear ends, and straw on the front. He probably wore brown pants underneath them and a pair of sandals. He had his belts, but no weapons were strapped to them.

"Hey, are you deaf or something?" He asked. Darien didn't realise he was staring.

"Uh... No no, I am just... Shocked to see someone else here except me and my comrade... And yes, yes I want, er... Need the keys!" The man looked at him for a while, then smiled.

"Sure I'll give them to you!" Darien released all the air he was holding in. "But you should tell me what's going on, okay?"


End file.
